


L'Oreal P56

by tooastranger



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer, 5SOS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooastranger/pseuds/tooastranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my loviest lady, G, happy birthday. Viva la Promptgate! Based on this prompt (uh. mostly):<br/>I want cutesy Michael-dying-his-hair fic :c Waiting for the colour to take, Michael gets suuuper bored, but the dye he uses drips everywhere so he can't leave the bathroom. Cue his boys ~entertaining him. (either as a group ((ayyy)) or 3 times a different boy kept him occupied while his hair changed colour :D)</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Oreal P56

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shalbi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalbi/gifts).



> You're the Ashton to my "If Found, Return to" shirt. Happy, happy birthday. I hope you like it.

“I’m going to look like a skunk.”

“Yeah, but a really cute skunk. Make all the boy skunks go ‘hruuuu!’”

“You have no idea what sounds skunks make, do you?”

“None,” Ashton smiled dopily up at Michael from his seat on the floor. He had sprawled out on the bathroom carpet to “get away from that noxious stench” when Michael had opened the bleach. He had his phone in one hand and he was flicking lazily through his twitter.

Michael turned back to the mirror and stared critically at himself. He had parted away the sides of his hair and was currently sporting a very awkward mohawk. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed some black hair dye into his gloved hands. 

Working it through the selected chunk of hair didn’t take very long, and soon Ashton was bored enough to make a quick spot check.

“You missed a spot over here,” he said, poking Michael in the face.

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Michael snapped, peeling the gloves off his long fingers.

“Can’t. Bored. Help me Mikey!” Ashton whined. He wrapped himself around Michael, slowly koala-ing the pale boy in an enormous hug.

“I thought you were here to keep me company, so that I wouldn’t get bored?” Michael said. Ashton was letting more and more of his weight rest on Michael and Michael could feel himself sink to the floor from having that much enthusiasm weighing him down.

“Technicalities,” Ashton huffed. 

Ashton was the world’s most floppy puppy, right alongside Harry Styles. Michael didn’t like to think about what it meant that he kept finding such ridiculous creatures helplessly endearing. They were always up for a laugh, ready to cuddle, play, party, and Michael’s heart swelled a little at the complete lack of self-consciousness that Ashton displayed.

“Well, I have to wait thirty minutes for the dye to set before I can take a shower. You don’t have to stay here. Go find Luke or something.”

“Luke’s playing FIFA with Calum,” Ashton muttered, and Michael snorted.

“No wonder you’re bugging me instead.”

“I’m not bugging you. I’m gracing you with my presence,” Ashton said. His knees were now almost in contact with the floor, and Michael was arched forward, neck craning backwards so that his hair didn’t brush against Ashton accidentally.

“You are an idiot, and you’re fucking heavy. Let go of me,” Michael dug his fingers into Ashton’s sides, just along the ribs, and Ashton squawked indignantly, letting go of his grip on Michael and flopping onto the floor.

“Mean.” Ashton pouted up at him. “You know how ticklish I am.”

Michael absently hummed at him and turned back to his hair. Luckily the fight with Ashton’s weight and gravity hadn’t done any damage. He was just getting a good look at the back, when suddenly a palm on his ass made him stop.

“Excuse you,” Michael smirked down at Ashton. Ashton’s fingers dug into their hold a little tighter and he squeezed. Dimples appeared on his cheek as Michael gasped a little.

“I can think of a way to make the time pass a little faster,” he mumbled into Michael’s thigh, nosing slightly at the zip, which was quickly becoming strained. He popped the top button on Michael’s ridiculously tight jeans, and the slight pull on his curls was all confirmation he needed.

***

“MIKEY! Hurry up! Mikey I need to pee!” There was a pounding on the bathroom door.

“So go find another bathroom, Calum, this house has, like, six!” Michael hollered back. He was elbow deep in purple hair dye. They were in their recording house in London, and since they couldn’t be trusted to share a bathroom without killing Luke, management had found them one with several options to choose from.

“Can’t. Too far. Must pee now,” he heard Calum whimper. It also sounded suspiciously like the idiot was sliding down the door.

“Oh my god, fine,” Michael caved, “Just go while I’m in here.”

There was the sound of cheering and suddenly six feet of flailing limbs were propelling themselves through the door.

“You are such a drama queen,” Michael muttered. 

The black from the reverse skunk was still in his hair, but the dark purple would compliment it nicely. He lathered the dye as evenly as he could over his whole head. Calum aimed a kick to Michael’s shins and then proceeded to unbutton his fly. Swearing about ungrateful halfbreeds under his breath, Michael finished working the dye into his hair and stripped off his gloves. Just as he stuck his hands under the running faucet, Calum sidled up next to him and stuck his hands under the spray.

“Thanks, Mikey, you saved my life,” he said, batting Michael’s hands out of the way. Michael elbowed him in the side with a sharp jab and snuck his hands back under the water. Just as he reached for the soap, Calum shoved him aside and flicked water in his face.

“Sod off, Hood,” Michael laughed, wiping water from his face.

“Make me,” Calum challenged. His eyes glinted with mischief, and Michael had to smother a wave of affection. Calum liked to test Michael’s patience, pulling him out of his own head when he got too serious, when he started brooding too much. It had become a little bit of a contest between them to see who would admit defeat first: Michael’s ego, or Calum’s complete lack of interest in boundaries.

A brief, but intense war for the running tap ensued and soon both boys were drenched and laughing. The bathroom turned into a health hazard, slippery beyond belief.

“Here,” Calum said, reaching over, “Let me.” He gently brushed a strand of Michael’s dye-wet hair off of his forehead.

“Wanker,” Michael murmured. He slipped his fingers through Calum’s belt loops and tugged him forward. “You’re going to pay for that. You got my favourite shirt all wet.” Calum tried to stand his ground, but the ground afforded him no grip at all.

“It’s your hair dyeing shirt!” Calum protested, hands coming up to rest on top of Michael’s long fingers, steadying himself. “It’s got every colour under the sun stained into it.”

Michael flashed him a grin and raked his fingers along the seam of Calum’s pants. 

“Got a couple of other stains too,” he muttered before leaning forward to bite down on Calum’s arm.

***

When it finally came time to re-dye his hair, Michael was looking forward to the time he spent waiting for the colour to set. Lathering a deep purple/red onto his freshly bleached hair, Michael glanced at the door he had purposely left open. He’d made the announcement twenty minutes ago that he was off to dye his hair before flouncing off to find his lucky dyeing shirt. It had gathered a spectacular array of blobs and marks by now, it’s wide collar swooping dramatically over one shoulder. It was way too big, and ridiculously ugly, but good things happened to him in this shirt.

By the time he finished working the dye to the very tips of his roots, he couldn’t help but glance at the door every few seconds. There was no sound from the rest of the boys. As he tidied the sink he tried really hard not to feel a sense of disappointment that nobody had come to find him yet. He was sure that they’d heard him. He set the timer on his phone, tucked his hair under a shower cap, and left the bathroom in search of one of his boys.

He didn’t have to go far before he found Luke spread out on the couch, long legs dangling off the end and one arm thrown over his face.

“Heya, Lukey,” Michael said, patting at Luke’s legs to get him to lift them up. “What’s up?”

There was a vague groan, before Luke raised his legs, so that Michael could slide onto the couch. His long giraffe legs immediately settled back down on Michael’s lap.

“You okay?” Michael asked, poking Luke in the side. The blond boy grunted and jerked out of Michael’s touch, his arm leaving his face to shield his stomach.

“Too much chocolate milk,” he groaned, curling in on himself. “Ashton and Calum challenged me to a competition. My stomach hurts.”  
Michael barked out a laugh, sharp and quick.

“S’not funny,” Luke groaned again.

“Where are they now?” Michael asked, smirking fondly down at Luke. 

“They left to get more chocolate milk. I swear Calum is a bottomless pit.”

Michael chuckled again, and this time reached forward to rub soothing circles along Luke’s thighs. Luke immediately relaxed into Michael’s touch, and sighed happily as Michael’s palms pressed down slightly harder, running up to the crease where Luke’s thighs joined his groin.

Luke looked so pained lying on the couch. Michael smirked imagining how the competition went down, Ashton and Calum glugging down milk in long pulls, laughing and poking Luke as he tried to keep up. Luke would’ve pouted and mumbled about hating everyone, a small smile tugging at his eyes. Michael was pretty convinced Luke was physically incapable of hating anyone. One thing that was certain about the blond boy was that he guided everyone with his calm, shy love, muttering words of encouragement, jokes, and cusses of endearment at them all.

Luke opened his eyes as Michael leaned forward, his eyes taking in the exposed stretch of pale collar bone that was suddenly on display as Michael’s shirt fell forward even more.

“Christ, Mikey, your lips seem even redder with that colour in your hair, ” Luke said softly, running a thumb along Michael’s bottom lip. Michael nipped at his fingers. “The shower cap really completes the look, too,” Luke chuckled, his eyes following Michael’s tongue as it licked over Luke’s fingers before sticking it out at Luke’s comment.

“Well, if you don’t come to me, I will be forced to track you down,” Michael pouted. He leaned forward, bracing himself on either side of Luke’s body with his arms. He leaned down and peppered Luke’s face with soft kisses.

“That a promise?” Luke asked, hand fisting into Michael’s shirt.

Michael hummed and sank lower.


End file.
